


your words, my love

by aftersh0cks



Series: constellation streets [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M, not even kidding this is superfluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 09:14:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aftersh0cks/pseuds/aftersh0cks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You love how Jehan can't stop writing about you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your words, my love

**Author's Note:**

> constellation streets is a rather non-linear series of drabbles and stories taking place in modern-day New York City.

Jehan writes. He writes and you listen to the sound of his pen, scratching in a hand-made notebook--your¬ hand-made notebook, covered in flower petals you snatched from Central Park last summer. You look over at the words and before he can cover it, you see your name, and you smile and kiss him because Jehan is writing about you.

You are Jean Prouvaire’s favorite thing to write about, and you know it. He describes your hair, your eyes, the way you kiss him, in more words than you really think you could describe yourself in, and more grandiose words than you thought could ever apply to you. In Jehan’s loopy scrawl, everything about you is immortalized, from the way you forget to tie your shoes when the laces come undone to the time you punched some ignorant ass who insulted the both of you on the streets once.

He records the one fight you had with him, the one where you didn’t even remember what you’d begun fighting about in the end when you stormed out of your flat and drove to Grantaire’s and (Jehan doesn’t know about this) you stewed until you started crying and Grantaire drove you back home and you kissed and made up and made out.

Jehan records the first time he kissed you as well, over a flower in Central Park, and the first time you told him you loved him, while watching Disney movies and eating ice cream at three o’clock in the morning in his apartment. Your relationship is so damn cliché, but you love it, and it’s the best thing you’ve ever had in your life.

Still, Jehan writes, poem after story after poem, and it’s all you and Jehan and Jehan and you, and you cannot help but kiss him again, because you love him so much your heart feels like it’s bursting. (You tell him this, lying on the floor of his apartment with your eyes closed, and he laughs and scribbles a word on your collarbone and informs you that he is the poet in this relationship.)


End file.
